the coldest ride I ever spent

There's something to that old saying about California... and even though I don't live in San Francisco—rather further south—I often find that the coldest ride of the year, or walk for that matter, is an evening in late summer. I guess because when it's in the mid-80s during the day one doesn't think to bring along a sweater. But then you stay out a little later than planned and suddenly the sun has dropped far below the ridge and the breeze has picked up and miles to go before we sleep... And maybe the body isn't quite acclimatized to the light chill, having fought hard all summer to relearn how to shed any and all extra heat... and then you start shivering and you're even out of practice at that so it just runs on uncontrollably and then you're cold.